


White Flame

by Tashilover



Series: Claw and dagger [8]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dub-con/non-con situation, Fantasy AU, Gore, dragon!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To ensure peace, Martin must make the ultimate sacrifice.</p><p> </p><p>Another part to the Claw and Dagger series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a darker version of this 'verse. Please heed warnings.

They stripped him of his jewels, of his crown, and for a horrifying five minutes, Martin thought they were going to strip him of his clothes too. The trolls grabbed at his chest, grasping at the lion embroidered on his purple velvet tunic, ripping it off.

There was no point to it other than to humiliate him. Once the troll had the sheared, ripped lion piece in his three clawed hand, he threw it into the fireplace. He forced Martin to watch it burn, holding his head up by his hair, giving Martin a harsh shake whenever his eyes closed in pain.

From there they proceeded to beat him, kicking him repeatedly across the back and his stomach. They slammed him against the ground, slapped his face, dragged their claws across his exposed skin, cutting him deep, spilling his blood.

When they rammed his head against the stone floor once again, nearly knocking him unconscious, the captain of their sordid group held up his hand and said, "Stop."

The troll dropped Martin like a dead weight and stepped back. Martin curled in on himself, wheezing in pain, unable to give more voice to it. He has never been in more pain in his life, and that included when Caitlin had accidentally kneed him when he was nine.

The captain squatted down in front of Martin, snapping his fingers to get his attention. The loin clothe barely covered the troll's genitals. Martin gagged at the sight.

"Where are the others, your highness?"

Martin dutifully kept his mouth shut. It wasn't hard, it hurt too much to talk.

At his silence, the captain reached down and grabbed another fistful of hair, forcing a hiss out of him. "I am not going to ask again," the troll growled. He pulled a silver dagger out of his sheath, held it up to Martin's neck. He pressed it flat against his skin, letting him feel the cold steel. "Where are the others?"

"Gone," Martin gasped.

"Gone where?"

"I don't know."

The knife pressed in. "Don't lie to me."

"Not lying. Even if I did know..." Martin stared defiantly up at the troll. "I would never tell you. So you and your monstrous kind can go to _hell_."

Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he felt them slowly drift down his cheeks.

If anything he has done in his short life, Martin was proud of himself in this moment. He didn't waver, he didn't beg for his life. He knew he was going to die but at least he was going with the knowledge his family got away.

He waited for the knife to go across his throat, severing his artery. He had no idea if it would be a painless death.

The troll released him, dropping him to the floor. Fear spiked inside of Martin. Why were they letting him live? Did they plan to interrogate him?

As brave as he was in the face of death, he wasn't sure he could be the same after hours of torture. The greatest humiliation would be giving up his family to spare himself a few hours of intense pain.

"Bring him to the dragon," said the captain. "He'll decide what to do with the prince."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three years of war.

Martin was sixteen when the first of his father's armies were sent out, and they were obliterated in a ball of fire. Those who managed to come back alive- missing limbs, faces nearly burnt away- starved themselves to death because the smell of cooked meat sent them into hysterics.

When Martin turned seventeen, his father married his sister off to the wizard council in order to gain their alliance. In turn, they gave his armies a way to fight back dragon fire and for a few months, it looked like the tides had turned and victory was on its way.

But then the dragon called upon the trolls for help, offering them gold in exchange for their muscle.

The anti-fire shields and armour was all the wizards were willing to give, and a month after Martin turned eighteen, his father married Simon off to a kingdom from the eastern shore to enlist help from their army.

Over the next year, neither side gave in. They were too equally matched. Just as Martin's father decided it was time to marry him off in order to help tip the scales of the war, the trolls found a weakness in the defenses of the kingdom and broke through.

The security at the castle has been kept at a minimum these past few years, as most of the men have been sent to the fields. Their goal was to kill the royal family, take hostage of the kingdom and finally secure the war.

The captain of the guards, Carl, caught wind of the attack and began evacuating the family. He managed to sneak out the king and queen, but Martin...

It was just his dumb luck he was the only one who got himself caught. Carl tried to go back for him, but Martin told him to go, to get his parents to safety. So they ran, Carl and his father dragging Martin's screaming mother with them.

Martin was prepared to die. With the knowledge his family got away, he would've died with a full heart. He was ready.

Now, here he was, weighed down in iron shackles, being shoved and pulled like a dog on a leash through the smoking remains of his father's kingdom. They were taking him to the Dragon of the West, the one who has been plaguing these lands for the past three years.

As terrified as he felt, it was worse for his citizens.

As he was paraded through the kingdom, he watched as the people his father sworn to protect being herded like sheep themselves by the trolls. They were dragged out of their homes, shoved into lines and being trotted off to only God knows where. There were dead bodies in the street, burnt to a blacken ash. Some were still on fire.

There were a few who spotted Martin, who gave him pitied looks. Others didn't recognize him. There was one woman who broke through the crowd of trolls, ran up to Martin, grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and yelled hysterically, "Why did you start this war? WHY?"

The front of her dress was covered in blood.

Before Martin could even open his mouth- to apologize or explain himself, he didn't know- trolls dragged her back into the line. She was still screaming out her question.

He didn't know how long they forced him to walk. The shackles on his legs, arms and the one around his neck weighed him down, forcing him to hunch. His neck was hurting something awful, but his wrists were shredded. The metal was not smooth. It was rough, bumpy, it had little nicks and sharp edges. Every time Martin took a step, the edges cut into his skin, making him bleed. At least he had his boots to protect his ankles.

They marched him out of the village, out past the farms, right into the forest. By the time they reached the beginning line of the trees, Martin collasped in exhaustion. He fell to his knees, the weight of the shackles forcing him to slump to his side. He was breathing so hard he thought his chest might burst.

"Get up," said the troll, kicking him in the back. "I said, get up!"

"That's enough."

Though Martin has never heard the dragon's voice before, he recognized it immediately. The war officers who met up with Martin's father described the dragon's voice as deep and dark, like a man speaking from an echo.

He didn't want to look, but he was compelled to.

Slowly he lifted his head. The shackle on his neck barely gave him enough room to maneuver.

He heard from rumours the dragon had the ability to change his size at will. It was one of the reasons why it was so hard for the soliders to track him. While they looked in the sky for a large, monsterous thing, the dragon was probably as small as a butterfly, fluttering between the ears of men.

Douglas, the Dragon of the West, was as big as a house. It was difficult for Martin to pull his head up to look. The dragon sat like a cat, comfortable and loose, his tail idly swaying back and forth on the forest floor. He stared down at Martin with uninterested, bored eyes.

"Where is his father?" Douglas asked.

"Escaped," the troll captain said. "The castle has many hidden rooms we did not forsee. By the time we got to the prince, the king had already escaped."

"Hmmm... so tell me," Douglas said, directing his question to Martin. "How does it feel to be abandoned by your own father, your highness?"

Martin said nothing, letting the weight of the shackle to pull him back down.

"Get that off of him, he looks like a dog. A tiny, ginger dog."

"Dragon...?" The troll captain said, surprised. "T-take it off? He might run."

"If he does, I will catch him. Take them off, I want to speak to him, ginger dog to dragon."

With an annoyed grumble, the troll took the large, iron keys from out of his pocket and bent down to Martin to undo the shackles. He took the ones off Martin's legs first, followed by the one on his neck. The troll stepped back, as if having no intention to take the ones off Martin's wrists when Douglas chimed in, "And his arms, captain. Let him stand."

Once the final shackle fell away, Martin's body felt unbelievably light. If he wasn't hurting so much, he might have pushed himself to his feet and tried running for it.

"Stand up, your majesty," said Douglas. "Face me."

Martin got shakily to his feet. He hugged his tattered wrists to his chest protectively.

The dragon hummed. "You're very young. How old are you?"

"... nineteen."

"Then you must be Martin. I assumed you were your brother."

"Simon is not here. He has been married off to the East."

That was the wrong thing to say. Douglas' tail suddenly snapped forward like whip, cracking against the ground, Martin jumped at the noise, his hands flying up to his ears. "I know," Douglas said dangerously. "Quite a gamble your father took, marrying his children off faster than he can reproduce. Not many people are willing to take on a dragon, even through proxy. What about you, boy? I see there is no engagement ring on your finger. Weren't you about to be married off, as well?"

"Look how skinny he is," said the troll captain in cruel mirth. "I doubt he would fetch a good price."

Douglas gave the troll a dull look. With a sigh, the dragon raised his clawed paw up into the air, then brought it down sharply, crushing the troll.

Martin gasped at the sight, flinching away as the the body practically _exploded_ under the weight of the dragon's paw. Like a roach underneath a foot.

"I apologize for him," said Douglas, moving his paw away. He shook it a few times, dispelling it of blood and gore. "There was no reason for him to be rude to you."

"Y-You just killed him," Martin gasped. "Like he was nothing."

"He was nothing."

"He was part of your army! And-and-and you just-"

"Your kindness is going to get you killed, your highness," Douglas sneered. "An admirable trait, but a foolish one. Try not to feel too much sorrow for him. His kind reproduce asexually, so it's not as if he had a _family_ to go home to."

"That's cruel."

"So I've been told. Now, the question here is, what should I do with you? Shall I torture you for information? Shall I set you as an example to my enemies by tying you to a stake and burning you alive?

Martin shook in fear.

"Or... we can be civilized folk here, and do the noble thing."

The dragon threw something out. Martin jumped back as a jeweled golden choker landed at his feet.

"Will you marry me?"

Martin felt like he'd just been slapped. "W-what?"

"I said, will you marry me?"

"Oh my god, is this a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Of course I am not going to marry you!" Martin yelled out. He stepped forward and kicked out, knocking the choker away by a few feet. "Are you insane? You're a goddamn monster! You started this war-"

"Your _father_ started this war," Douglas growled, baring his teeth. "When he invaded _my_ lands!"

"You killed so many people-"

"I killed in self-defense-"

"Oh yeah?" Martin pointed at the flattened troll. "Was _that_ in self-defense, you overgrown lizard?"

"Meh, to-may-toes, to-mah-toes," Douglas said. He sniffled, a little put-out from having his logic thrown back at him. "So? How' bout it? Be my husband?"

"No!"

"I am trying to be _nice_ here," he said. "My fields have been burnt. Invaders have been taking advantage of my absence and have been trying to set their claim on my lands. I have been forced to ally myself with these ugly, pitiful trolls. I am _tired_ , Martin. I am sick of war. And what will I gain for it? What will I _get_ once I burn down your entire kingdom? A few hundred acres of land, and civil war from your people. I have no interest in killing humans. You kill one human, only two more will take his place. I'd rather not spend the rest of my existence constantly fighting your lot. I do not ask this lightly, Martin. What I am really calling is, a _truce_."

It felt like the whole world beneath Martin suddenly shifted. He swallowed, stunned by the declaration. "A-a truce? After three years... you just want to give up?"

"I am not _giving up,_ you stupid little boy. I am simply choosing what's the best solution for all of this. Become my husband, and I will withdraw from your father's lands. In turn, he will withdraw from my lands. No harm, no foul."

"You... you can't expect us to wave away all the death you've caused-!"

"Would you rather for us to continue this fight, then? I am dragon and I can outlast you."

"Not unless I find a way to rip your head off."

Douglas blinked in surprise, and suddenly began laughing. "Wah ha ha! You have bite, little Martin! Very good! This will make this marriage very interesting!"

"I said-"

"I heard. But it's not really up to you, is it? If your father commands it, will you follow through?"


	2. Chapter 2

Martin had been expecting to be married off one day, perhaps to some unknown Lord or Lady in a faraway kingdom. He heard rumours his dad was thinking of sending Martin off to be a concubine to the far east in exchange for iron.

Small fairies fluttered silently over him, combing down his hair, using their small magicks to will away skin blemishes. They plucked and pulled any offending hair from his chin and eyebrows, and when they were done, Martin's skin was as perfect as a China doll.

The fairies then helped him with his rings, his bracelets, his necklaces and earrings. Never in his life had he been adorned with such wealth before, and the weight of the gold and rubies pulled him down.

"You look so handsome, your highness," one of the fairies cooed in her tiny voice. "The dragon will not resist you."

That's what he was afraid of.

There was a knock at the door. Martin's father walked in, looking very handsome in his royal dress. A large gold crown sat on top of his head. Last time Martin saw his father wear that crown, it was at Simon's wedding. "Thank you, ladies," the king said to the fairies. "May I have a word with my son, please?"

The fairies bowed and gathered their materials. They swiftly left the room through an open window. Martin wanted to go with them.

He didn't want to face his father.

Martin knew this was the best option for everyone. He knew this was the easiest way to end the war, to bring peace to the land, and perhaps to unite the two kingdoms together instead of destroying one another. Still didn't mean he had to like it.

"You look very handsome, Martin," his dad said gently.

"Dad, please... don't."

Douglas wasn't lying. It _was_ the King's fault the war started in the first place. Martin's father had wanted the salt peter mines on the Dragon's land. Instead of coming to some kind of contract or compromise, it was decided the best route was to _take it._ They expected no resistance from the dragon ("He's not even using them!" Was mentioned numerous times during council meetings. "Why should he care if we take what we want? He won't even notice!") and for two whole months, they mined salt peter off the dragon's land.

When Douglas found out, he sent the King a VERY large bill. The collective dowries of Caitlin, Simon and Martin wouldn't have been able to pay for it. When the King refused, Douglas chased the miners and workers off his land.

Then something happened. So many stories passed through the Council, so many eye witness accounts were heard, but the gist was simply this: Douglas had killed fourteen men.

Martin never got the full story. If it was an accident or deliberate, that didn't matter. It was enough incentive to declare war. All because the King had not bothered asking for permission.

Now, three years later, here Martin stood. He may never see his siblings again. He may never see his parents again. If he didn't please the dragon, there was also a chance he could be eaten alive and war could start all over.

"Martin, please," his father started again. "Let's not spend this time squabbling. This may be our last... day together."

Oh god. Only two weeks ago Martin was willing to die at the hands of trolls, and today he was going to be married off to the very creature who commanded those ugly things. "Dad..." Martin said brokenly, stepping forward and hugging his father fiercely. "I don't know if I can do this... I am trying to be brave but..."

"You don't have to be," his father said in a strange tone. It wasn't a reassurance. Confused, Martin leaned back to look up into his father's face for clarification when the King suddenly slipped a ring onto Martin's right middle finger.

It was a pearl ring, and though it was very beautiful, pearls were usually reserved for women, not men. "What...?"

"Shhh..." his father said quietly. "Look..."

He pushed against the pearl. It snapped open, like a locket, and hidden underneath the hollowed-out shell of the pearl was a thin, sharp, **black** needle.

He closed it just as quickly, his eyes darting around the empty room as if he was expecting someone to see. "When the dragon comes for you tonight, stab him as hard as you can with this. The best place is the underbelly, where his scales are not as hard."

Martin drew his right hand to his chest. He's read about these rings in books. The needle was supposedly soaked in poison and a single scratch could cause death. The implications of what his father was asking him to do was mind boggling. "You're asking me... if I fail... if it doesn't work-"

"Do your _duty_ , Martin," his father hissed, practically snarling. "If not for yourself, then for your kingdom!"


	3. Chapter 3

Martin honestly did not know where his father was getting the money from. The kingdom has been at war for the past three years, so many of its people have suffered, many crops have been burned to a cinder, and yet this wedding showed riches as if more than half of its citizens weren't starving.

People wore their finest, women in silk, men in deep rich purples. So much gold was being flaunted, Martin was sure his father was taking notes of those he had not taxed yet.

The ceremony was a pointless endeavour. All they needed to do was sign a contract and be done with it, but Martin secretly believed the dragon wanted the outlandish ceremony. What better way to end a three year feud than advertising 'I AM FUCKING YOUR PRINCE' in streams of silver?

Fabrics of gold and red were hung from the ceiling. Flower bouquets as big as Martin's chest sat in jeweled vases, resting at the end of every pew. Fairies flew high above, carrying baskets of white flower petals, and they tossed them into the air, letting them float down like snow.

Everything was so elegant and beautiful. Not even Caitlin or Simon's weddings were like this.

Draped around Martin's shoulders was the heaviest piece of velvet he has ever worn in his life. The cape was only meant for decoration, to be dragged behind him like a veil. The cape, along with the added weight of the jewelry, made Martin feel heavy and sluggish as he walked down the aisle.

Though he was more than glad to take his time. Douglas sat patiently at the end, waiting for him.

The only thing the dragon wore were two golden bracelets over his horns. Other than that, he was as nude as the day Martin first met him. He also did not look as eager for this ceremony either. His front claw kept tapping the floor lightly, while his eyes wandered aimlessly around the church. He barely gave Martin a second glance.

By the time Martin got to the front, his shoulders were aching something terrible. He turned to face Douglas. Standing besides him was a troll- the new captain, to replace the flattened one- and in his clawed hands he held a small blue silk pillow. Resting on top of the pillow was the golden choker Douglas had offered to Martin in the beginning.

Indignity burned inside Martin. It was bad enough he had to be chained to this horrific beast, but the dragon fully intended to fastened Martin with that collar- like a dog.

Martin wasn't the only one staring at the cocker with unveiled distaste. Father Duncan, who has spent the last three years on the battlefields, giving last rites to dying soldiers, stared at the choker and the dragon with painful hatred.

Douglas paid no heed.

There was an obvious strain in Father's Duncan's voice as he began the usual wedding speech. He did his best, but not even he could find it in himself to speak about love and forgiveness. What should have been a fifteen minute speech was quickly shortened to two.

"Now," Father Duncan sighed unhappily, gesturing to the troll captain. "The exchanging of... things."

The troll captain walked forward, holding the blue silk pillow up towards Douglas. Using two of his claws, Douglas picked up the choker delicately from the pillow. He held it out for Martin to take.

Martin expected the choker to be heavy. The weight of the gold, added with the giant green jewel in the middle was going to feel like a large, heavy river rock sitting on his esophagus. He prepared himself to lift it and have it strain against his palm.

The choker was light as a feather, and Martin jerked in surprise. There was no weight to it at all, like it wasn't even there.

His surprise of the weight only temporarily made him forget what the choker symbolized. Mentally kissing his freedom goodbye, Martin fastened the choker around his neck.

Douglas looked on in satisfaction.

To Martin's right, his father walked to his side, holding a red silk pillow. On it, sat Douglas' wedding jewelry: a gold and silver bracelet.

Douglas bent his head down to Martin's level, allowing Martin to pull off one of the simple gold bracelets from Douglas' left horn. Martin slid the marriage bracelet on, and stood back.

"You may now ki-" Father Duncan began, then caught himself. "Uh... I... uh... give you your newly wedded couple. May they reign forever."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You've been fingering that ring a long time."

Martin abruptly pulled his hand away from the pearl ring. He'd been twirling it around his finger unconsciously. "I'm bored," he said quickly.

"Bored?" Douglas repeated. "This is your wedding. You should be having fun."

Martin has never been one for festivals where the main attraction was eating and dancing. His guests were certainly having fun, or pretending to. Even his parents were on the main floor, dancing quietly with each other. There was still an air of unease, many guests throwing worried looks to the trolls who remained at their own tables, laughing and drinking merrily. "You're right," Martin said. "It is my wedding. And if I want to sit here at the main table all night, I can."

"Bah, I guess I was wrong in thinking you would be interesting."

That was a bit of a jab to Martin's ego. He said nothing to defend himself though.

"It's alright," Douglas continued. "I'll make things interesting."

He sat up straighter, cleared his throat and in a booming voice announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen! Thank you all for coming to my wedding and I hope everyone is enjoying the celebrations!"

There was a titter of agreement, a few cheered while some raised their crystal glasses of wine.

"I am happy to announce because of this wedding, the war between our countries has ended."

The whole room roared, clapping their hands and slapping the tables in happiness. Martin clapped too. He might as well _try_ to focus on the positive instead of wallowing in self-pity.

"I am quite pleased to see so many distinguished and influential people such as yourselves have come today to witness my reunion. Thank you all for coming..."

A slowly toothy grin broke out on the dragon's face.

"...You _fucking_ morons."

Douglas let the last of his sentence hang in the air. People slowly lowered their raised glasses, confusion replacing their smiles. Martin stood from his seat, horror taking root deep in his chest as he came to realization what was going to happen next-

Douglas jerked his head to the trolls. "BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE KING!"

"NO!" Martin cried out, stepping onto the table to leap over it. Before he could even shift his weight, Douglas' claw came down and grabbed him suddenly, keeping him still.

"Don't hurt yourself," the dragon cooed. "Just watch as the events play out..."

Chaos broke out. Tables and chairs were turned over as people scrambled to get away. Trolls and guards alike threw themselves into the crowd, shoving everyone aside in a race to get to the king and queen standing somewhere in the middle of it all. The screaming was deafening.

Too much was going on, the guards didn't know where to go or who to protect. The trolls cut down everyone in their way, and soon the entire hall was filled with the smell of blood. The few guests who tried to stop, to turn and help, were unexpectedly trampled by the panicking crowd.

There was nothing Martin could do. The dragon's grip, though loose enough for him to breath, would not let him go. He kicked out, he punched as hard as he could. The scales of the paw were too thick, too rough to be penetrated, not even by the pearl ring, leaving Martin with nothing.

A familiar scream had him look up from the claws to the crowd. He saw his mother and father be dragged to the middle of the room. The elegant purple dress his mother was wearing was soaked through with blood, while his father was bleeding heavily from his mouth. The trolls forced them to their knees. The sounds of their crowns clattering to the stone ground were barely heard.

"NO! Douglas-!" Martin gasped, twisting the best he could to face the dragon. "Douglas-! Douglas, please, I beg you!"

Douglas looked on, watching in quiet anticipation.

Tears were streaming down Martin's eyes. He glanced back at his parents, nearly screaming when he saw the trolls unsheathing their swords from their scabbards.

"Douglas! Douglas-! Please, _my love!_ "

Douglas' gaze snapped down to him.

Martin didn't know what it was. If it was his voice, his tears, or the absolute pathetic-ness of it all, something got through. "Please..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The choker described is based off of a necklace I wear. Here is a pic I took on me tumblr.
> 
> http://tashilover.tumblr.com/post/111903627863/bought-this-at-a-mall-for-15


	4. Chapter 4

Many of the castle rooms were designed with secret walls, passages and doors for crisis situations. Martin's own room was built with three different passageways, all pointing in different directions just in case he were ever trapped or cornered.

This was not one of those rooms.

The pantry was built with a single heavy door to help keep the rats out of the flour and grain. Which meant no extra, unknown areas for them to get in. Martin checked anyways in case he was wrong. He wasn't.

He kicked at the door till his whole leg hurt. He screamed until his throat was sore. Douglas may have spared his parents, but that didn't mean Martin saved them from a worse fate. The dragon could be torturing them. Roasting them alive like pigs on a spit. Douglas could be allowing those awful trolls do whatever they wanted to his mother-

He needed to stop. He was going to drive himself mad with his own imagination. But until he knew what happened to his parents, his own brain was going to torture him with horrific images of blood and bone. What was going on out there? What was Douglas doing to the castle and to the rest of the inhabitants? Martin pressed his ear against the door, hearing for specific noises, but the pantry and the kitchen were too far away from the dining hall.

On the floor laid the shattered remains of the choker. Martin ripped the choker off as soon as he could, threw it to the floor and stomped on it until it shattered beneath his boot.

The pantry door wouldn't open again for another half hour. Martin, who was unable to enjoy the food at the ceremony, sat on a basket full of grain while he munch woefully at an apple.

Douglas popped his head in. In his clawed palm he held a plate of food. "I was going to bring you your dinner, but I see you've already eaten."

Martin tossed the apple at his head which Douglas dodged easily.

The dragon stared at him unimpressed. "I spared your parents. I expected a bit more gratitude."

"Gratitude?" Martin repeated, pushing himself up. "I thought you wanted peace! I thought you wanted to end this war, to start a new era in our kingdoms!"

"I didn't lie," Douglas said, placing down the plate. "I meant what I said."

"Then what the fuck was that? None of those people were armed- that was a slaughter!"

"That was retribution."

"Retirbution?"

An ugly snarl curled the dragon's lips. "I know about the _ring_ , Martin."

Immediately Martin curled away, shying his hand out of sight. "I..."

"God, this is a huge, fucking mess," Douglas hissed. "I never wanted _any_ of this! I wanted to go home, eat my food, drink my wine, and hell, possibly enjoy a married life with you! I don't want war, Martin! I had full intentions in leaving this damn place behind and never look back. But your father... your father forced my hand. Did he not think I would not recognize a poison ring? Does he think of me moronic? I knew the moment I saw it on your hand, the way he looked at it with such pride, that he meant for you to assassinate me. In my own bed, no doubt. I knew I would never be safe as long as he was in power."

"I..." Martin felt like he was stabbed in the guts. "I... had no plans to even use it-"

"Indeed..." Douglas reached out, delicately touching the remains of the choker with his claw. With a huff, he brushed aside the broken, bent pieces of gold. "I did what I had to do to keep myself safe. Can you blame me for that?"

No, he couldn't. No matter how much devotion Martin had towards his father and his country, that was not something he could forgive. "If you knew about the ring, then why didn't you kill all of us?"

"To prevent civil war," Douglas said. "Your people will never accept me as their monarch but you... they'll accept you. It'll also keep your siblings from attacking."

"Good god," Martin gasped. "Do you mean for me to be _king?"_

"Why not? Aren't you the crown prince?"

"Yes, when and IF my father dies! This isn't taking the throne after a monarch dies, Douglas! This is... usurping the throne! It'll be seen as an act of war! An act against _God!_ The allied ties my father made through my siblings could very well be considered nulled and void and- and- and..."

Martin was panicking. The thought he may have to go war with his own siblings was bearing down upon him like a crashing wave. He may not have been the most popular among his people (the citizens LOVED Simon, they thought of him as handsome and charming) he wasn't hated either. Maybe they would have accepted Martin as king one day, but not when the throne was overthrown by the very beast Martin had just married.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Martin," Douglas said. "Calm down. You're hyperventilating."

Breath was rushing through Martin, and he tried his best to control it. So much was going wrong. All because of this fucking ring-

He grabbed at the pearl ring. He ripped it off his middle finger, and he threw it to a random corner of the pantry. "Fuck," he hissed. A terrible headache was beating fiercely against his temple. "Fuck..."

After a minute to allow his breathing to settle, Martin said, "There's no way to avoid this. You did more than overthrow my father. You killed his advisors, their wives... that is an act that cannot be overlooked."

"Nor do I expect it," Douglas said solemnly. "I made a decision and I will follow through with it. But you are a major part of that decision, Martin. I will need your help on this."

It was too big. Just a few hours ago Martin was wallowing over the idea of marriage. Now he was being asked to become king, keep his parents prisoner, and to ensure his kingdom would not fall to civil war and mayhem, he may have to treat the country like a dictatorship.

Martin wiped at his sweaty brow. "...Where are my parents?"

"The king and queen are currently being held in the tower," Douglas said. "They'll be looked after, I promise. Food, water, the basic necessities. It won't be luxurious, but they won't suffer."

"How do you know I won't kill you?" Martin asked. It seem like a foolhardy move to announce such a scheme, but Martin needed to know. Douglas was not an idiot, the thought has crossed his mind. "After everything you've done, what makes you think I will even help?"

Douglas came close. In this small pantry room, there was no place to go. Martin stumbled back as this giant hulk of a lizard towered over him.

"Like I said," Douglas sneered. "I will need your help. But remember this, _dear husband,_ your parents are alive because I command it. If you wish, I can retract that kindness."


	5. Chapter 5

Though not yet king, Martin quickly issued orders to keep his head off the guillotine. He did it as quietly as he could before the rumours of the blood-crusted wedding reached ears of his brother, sister and allies.

To the many politicians and nobles killed, Martin seized their lands and their fortune under false pretenses. If they had children or other heirs, he banished them from the kingdom.

"You know," Douglas suggested. "The easier thing to do is to kill them. You don't want some brat growing up and declaring vengeance upon you."

Martin didn't want to admit it, the thought has crossed his mind. The guilty weight of stealing from his own citizens was already bearing down upon him, threatening to drown him. If he chose to kill children, he would surely lose his soul. "No," Martin said. "I will not cross that line." It might be a decision that could cost him his life.

To keep the average citizen from rebelling, Douglas grudgingly pulled money from his own hoard to distribute it among them. He brought in livestock, new seeds, fabrics, sewing instruments, and many other necessities. Not even before the war was there so much wealth.

To help appease the ire between the religious sector and Martin, he commissioned new churches to be built. Father Duncan, unfortunately, saw the newly erected churches for what they were and publically denounced Martin and Douglas. While such a declaration should have been a death sentence, Martin spared him, and along with the noble orphans, banished him from the kingdom.

As for the trolls, who coveted gold above all else, Douglas quietly paid them off and sent them home. Martin was more than happy to see them go.

While Douglas' wealth backed many of Martin's actions, those outside of his influence condemned his sudden rise to power. As Martin set forward his plans to be crowned as King, many of the surrounding kingdoms sneered in response. Luckily for him, it looked as if nobody was actually going to challenge him. Give them a few years and Martin was confident he could win them over. If not through them, then through their children.

Martin acted so fast nobody noticed till it was too late.

Douglas, who did very little to help except offer gold, purred proudly at Martin. "I didn't think you had it in you. You took control of an entire kingdom and you didn't shed an ounce of blood to do it."

"That's because you did it for me," Martin scowled.

"It's still so very impressive. Usually in situations like these, executions would range in the hundreds. I've known monarchs who set up their guillotines to work all day and all night, for weeks on end."

"The kingdom was tired of war and were willing to take an easy way out. Their silence does not reflect their true nature. Give it time and we may see an uprising before I'm twenty-five."

He shuddered at the thought. If there were an uprising, the next step was unavoidable: Martin would be forced to order executions among the masses.

He pushed those thoughts away. He'll deal with that when he came to it. In the meantime, he still needed to order new roads to be built. He had given the people a long enough tax break and now it was time to start it up again. And-and-and-

"Martin," Douglas said casually as Martin bent over documents and files. Where was his inkwell? Martin lifted the parchment sheets, pushing them across the desk in search for it. The new roads needed his signature, he needed to correct the wording on another project and... and... oh, this desk was a mess. He should be better organized than this. "How long have we been married?"

"Ummm..." Martin couldn't find the damn inkwell. Fuck, he didn't feel like hunting for a new one right now. "A month..."

He dragged out the word _month_ , letting his tongue hiss between his teeth.

"Right," Douglas continued. "And do you know what we haven't done in that entire month?"

"Hmm?"

"Fuck."

Martin halted in his movements, allowing the words to sink into his brain. He wasn't sure he heard Douglas right. He pulled back to look at the dragon. "Wait, did you just say-?"

"Fuck," Douglas said again. "We have not fucked yet."

Suddenly Martin stopped caring about the inkwell. "I... oh... um... well..."

"Oh my god, just a few moments ago I was praising you on your ingenuity and intelligence, and now... it's as if your entire brain has shut down simply because I used a word to describe _sex_. What are you, a _virgin?"_

Martin threw him a shocked look. "W-w-well, _of course_ I am! How dare you insinuate I'm not!"

"What? Really?"

"Yes! You thought I wasn't?"

Douglas gave a half-hearted shrug. "Ehhhh... I thought by now you would've had your way with some pretty castle maid."

Blush pinked Martin's ears. When Simon was seventeen, he was found kissing one of Caitlin's ladies-in-waiting. Their father had _beaten_ Simon for nearly endangering his virginity, and then threatened Caitlin and Martin with the whip if they dared bargain away their biggest selling point.

While Martin had no idea if Caitlin took it to heart, he certainly did. He sputtered indignantly. "If-if it was found out I gave up my virginity-!"

"Whoa! Calm down, Martin. I honestly don't care," Douglas chuckled. He then paused, considering this new information. "Actually, I do care. I imagined our first time to be a quick fuck, but now I see. As your husband it is my duty to make your first time _soft_ and _gentle_."

"Oh, go away!" Martin twisted back around to his papers. "I have too much work to do and don't have time for your games."

"Nope. Sex now, work later."

Douglas reached down and pulled the chair away from the desk effortlessly. Martin gave a small yelp of surprised, his arms flailing for his desk, then a scream when Douglas snatched him up, holding him in his claws.

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

"We put this off too long," Douglas said, walking to the bed on the other side of the room. "We need to consummate this marriage."

"We're consummating _nothing!_ " Martin roared, slamming his fist down over and over upon Douglas' scales. It felt like he was hitting a leathery pillow. There was give, but Douglas didn't even blink. "Let me go, you beast!"

At his request, Douglas suddenly dropped him like a rag doll. Martin struck the bed, bounced and rolled, scrambling to get away. The dragon claw came back down, forcing him to his back, holding him still. "Get off! Get off of me!"

"Was _this_ how you were going to react on our first night?" Douglas asked in disbelief.

"That was before everyone decided to kill everyone! I'll be your husband, but in name only! Now, remove your filthy claw off me-"

"Martin, that's not how it works-"

"Oh, like you're an expert-"

" _Listen to me,"_ Douglas hissed, moving his head down so close all Martin could see from his angle was the dragon's snout. "If this was a human marriage, we could lie all you want. But I am not human, and thus the rules are a little different. Psychics will determine if you are a virgin or not. If it is found we have not consummated this marriage, it will be seen as fraud and the money I have given to this kingdom will be up for grabs. Do you _really_ want a slew of magical creatures clamoring for the gold you've spent... on top of everything _else?_ "

He pulled his claw away.

Martin laid there, his arms next to his head, his chest rising harshly with every breath. He was so frustrated he feared he might cry.

With a swallow, he croaked, "Just get it over with."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dub-con and rough sex.

Martin stripped from his clothes. He was so bitter about the whole situation, so annoyed, he didn't feel any embarrassment as he removed his trousers. He folded his clothes carefully and placed them away, sat back on the bed, laid down and waited for Douglas to start.

After five minutes staring up at the ceiling and nothing happening, he snapped out, "Well?"

Douglas stared down at him, his mouth twisting in disdain. "Do you know what the term, _dead fish_ means, Martin?"

"You're going to shove your monster cock into me," Martin hissed. "Excuse me for not acting so enthusiastic about it."

Martin had always known there was a chance he could married off to a man one day. There were rumours he might be sent off to a sultan's harem or become a concubine to an emperor. Martin had prepared himself to become the toy of a powerful man, not to a terrible, awful beast.

"I don't want to sleep with a dead fish," Douglas said.

"Well, I don't want to sleep with an overgrown lizard. So... fuck off."

Douglas flung his head back dramatically to the ceiling and groaned. "You're going to make me do this, aren't you?"

"I haven't forced you to do any-"

"Shut up for a second," Douglas snapped at him. "What I am about to show you, I have never shown to anyone else. Technically. You'll understand when you see it."

Confused, Martin pushed himself up on his elbows to look. "What?"

"Watch."

The dragon had the ability to change sizes, that Martin already knew. When there was space to take up in the room, Douglas would purposely grow bigger to take up that space. If it was an intimidation tactic or simply self-indulgence, Douglas has never said.

Right now, Douglas was getting smaller. And smaller. His wings were pulled in, his tail curling around his own thigh. Martin pushed himself back as Douglas' scales changed colour, turning from a deep, bluish-green to a pale, light pink. By the time Martin realized what the dragon was changing _into_ , Douglas' snout was already gone and his claws had become fingers.

"You..."

Douglas sat back on his heels, one hand brushing his long, peppered-coloured hair away from his eyes. "Well?" He asked, his human mouth twisting up into a smirk. "Do you like it?"

There had been rumours on the battlefield of a strange, unknown man walking around the camps. The reports said this man was often seen inspecting weaponry or checking perimeters, and as soon someone tried to question this man, he disappeared into the night. In the beginning the King had brushed this rumour off as solider hysteria, but the reports kept coming, all from different officers, saying the same thing. No matter how much they investigated, this mysterious man couldn't be found.

"You!" Martin said again, realization dawning sickeningly on him. "You're the mystery man!"

"Hmm?" Douglas cocked his head in confusion. "You mean...? Oh... yes, I suppose that was me-"

It didn't matter that Martin was as naked as the day he was born. It didn't matter that Douglas, even in human form, was taller and thicker than Martin. Patriotic pride and anger blinded Martin, and the frustration that had been building up inside of him since the wedding unleashed in that moment.

With a vicious cry, Martin leapt from his spot, slamming into Douglas, knocking him onto his back. Martin's hands curled around Douglas' fat throat, determined to squeeze the very life out of him, something Martin should have done from the very beginning.

There was a thought if Douglas retained his dragon strength in this form. It was confirmed when his large hands wrapped around Martin's wrists and ripped them away from his throat. "You little-!" Douglas shoved forward, reversing their roles and shoving Martin onto his back.

Holding his wrists down upon the bed, Douglas snarled, "Now, you listen here, you little twat-"

_Martin kneeled him._

With a grunt, Douglas released his grip and the young man was back on top of him, punching and scratching at every inch of skin he could get his hands on.

The two wrestled each other, arms and legs flailing, flipping each other over and over again, hissing and cursing and spitting.

"Ger' offa me-! Geeeer offffa me-!"

"Fucking- piece- of- shit-!"

"OW! Fuck!"

"You little-!"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow-!"

"GodDAMMIT!"

Finally, with an unearthly roar that was impossible to replicate with human lungs, Douglas surged forward, pinning Martin down, leaning over him to yell in his face. "You bloody idiot! Here I am, trying to be fucking _nice_ and your fucking attitude had to-"

He cut off when Martin suddenly jaunted his chin up, capturing Douglas' lips in a sudden, but soft, unmistakable _kiss_.

It was hesitant, the kiss. Martin was trembling slightly, his brows pushed together as if confused, but he simply shifted his lips and continued kissing Douglas, moving closer hesitantly.

For a minute Douglas let Martin kiss him, unsure of why or where this suddenly came from. The kisses were... nice. Simple. Inexperienced, though that was to be expected. Slowly, Douglas let go of Martin's arms, moving so his full weight wasn't on the boy, and started kissing him back.

Martin raised his arms up, and Douglas moved closer, thinking he was going to be pulled into an embrace, when one of Martin's hands curled into a claw and slashed his fingernails across Douglas' cheek.

"Gah-! Fuck!"

He pulled away momentarily, spitting and cursing, only to be tugged back into the kiss again.

Douglas forcibly pushed himself up and away from Martin's insistent mouth, dislodging the fist that had curled into his hair to keep him still. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing-"

His right arm was right next to Martin's head. The young man turned and sunk his teeth deeply into Douglas' wrist.

There was no curse this time, just an angry cry of pain. Douglas ripped back his arm, inspecting the harsh, red teeth marks when suddenly Martin surged up, grabbed Douglas by the face and starting kissing him again with the same ferocity.

Fine then. If that's how he wants it.

Douglas grabbed a fistful of red hair, and snapped back Martin's head, forcing him to cry out as Douglas started mouthing at his throat, kissing and sucking harshly at the flesh there. As soon as he was done raising a deep purple love bite on his neck, Martin's fingers found one of Douglas' nipples and twisted it sharply to the left.

Bruises were made. Bite marks were imprinted. Long, bloody scratches were raked down Douglas' back as his fingers left dark indentations on Martin's sides.

"Don't fight me on this," Douglas gasped, forcing Martin onto his back. A small stream of blood trickled out of Douglas' cut lip. "Stay- fucking- still-"

Martin's own lips were red and puffy from repeated, forceful kisses. He tried to push away Douglas' hand that was on his chest, keeping him still, and when it refused to move, he pressed his thumb against the bruised bite mark, digging it in.

"Argh! You piece of shit!" Douglas snarled, then bent down, taking Martin's hard, leaking cock into his mouth.

The reaction was immediate. Martin suddenly stopped, his whole body freezing up like he was stuck in between one second and the next. When Douglas took one long, sensual slurp on Martin's cock, Martin finally - _finally_ \- gave out his first pleasurable moan.

"Oh god," he breathed, arching his back. Douglas' hand curled under his arse, encouraging him. "Oh god, Douglas."

Douglas made sure everything was soft and wet, slurping noisily on the young man's cock. There was no pain involved in this, only pleasure, and despite the sting from his cut lip, Douglas was determined to see this to the end.

"Don't stop," Martin gasped. His head was tossed back into the pillows, mouth opened wide, his body writhing on the bed. "Oh god, don't stop."

Douglas had no intention to. A minute later he was rewarded with a splash of hot come down his throat, and he sucked it down, stealing the last of Martin's gasps and moans.

Finally, Douglas pulled back, wiping his arm across his spit-covered lips. His young prince was breathing harshly, still shuddering from the sweet release of orgasm. Douglas crawled forward, pressing his own body against Martin's, seeking out his lips to kiss him.

Martin's arm raised up and noisily slapped Douglas across the face, right against the nail marks.

Then he giggled.

" _Stop hitting me,_ " Douglas hissed, capturing Martin's lips and kissing him deeply. He slipped his tongue inside, to which Martin suddenly groaned in disapproval and turned his head away.

"You taste terrible," he said.

Douglas kissed him again. "That's _you_ you're tasting, you silly boy."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dub-con

"I didn't think you were into that."

Martin was propped up against a pillow, one arm behind his head, cushioning him against the wall. The other hand was cradled into Douglas' hair, gently tugging at it as Douglas lightly kissed Martin's exposed stomach.

"I'm not," said Martin. "I really, really wanted to kill you in that moment. But the touching, the wrestling... it got me excited. I knew I couldn't overpower you, so I..."

He trailed off, shrugging.

"How romantic," Douglas said dryly, planting another kiss on Martin's belly. "You do realize this doesn't count, right?"

"What?" Martin snapped, sitting up straighter, dislodging Douglas. "But we-"

"Climax does not mean consummation," Douglas said. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Otherwise that time when you were bored one evening and decided to play with yourself would have counted."

Martin groaned and flopped back down on the bed. "There are so many stupid rules involving this."

"Look, I was telling the truth when I said I wanted this to be good for you. This takes time and preparation. It needs to be gentle, so I would appreciate it if you don't kick me in the face."

Martin grinned slyly.

"That was not an invitation. Turn over." He gently tapped his hand against Martin's knee.

With an unappreciative sigh, Martin did. He shifted until he was on his hands and knees, his derriere' facing up. He felt stupid.

Oddly enough, the fear and anger that had consumed his entire being only twenty minutes ago wasn't there any longer. He was annoyed and felt, perhaps, a bit bored, but fear was absent. He was also not in the mood to have sex anymore. While it was nice to feel someone else's tongue on him (alright, it was really, really nice) now that it was over, he wanted to go back to work.

Besides, the bed needed new sheets. Droplets of blood were scattered across it like raindrops.

Maybe he should tell Douglas they could do this on another day. Tomorrow or something. "Douglas," Martin spoke up just as he felt two hands caressing his arse, spreading him open. "We-"

Douglas shuffled forward and gently flattened his tongue against Martin.

Oh.

OH.

Martin's fists tightened, the sheets tangling around his fingers. He tensed up immediately, his whole body going on alert. For a second he couldn't breath, breathing was not a function that was important to him right now.

"Martin?" Douglas asked, pulling back.

When Martin didn't answer, Douglas put a hand on his back and said, "Breathe."

Martin heaved, arching his back as he gulped down air. "Oh god..."

Douglas licked his lips. "Do you like it?"

"Um..." Martin wasn't even hard. His cock laid limp in between his legs. "I-I don't know... it feels... different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Does it matter?!"

"Hmmm..." Douglas leaned back in.

Martin quickly grabbed the pillows, holding them close so he could lean his chest upon them. He braced himself for Douglas' tongue, and nearly broke apart when he felt it upon his arse again.

The noises alone were enough to drive Martin insane. The slurping, the way Douglas hummed his approval as he lapped Martin's hole was nothing he'd ever experienced before in his life. A part of him wanted to get up and go to church to confess his sins.

He jumped when Douglas snaked his arm up between the mattress and gently grasped Martin's cock. He messaged it softly, his hand warm and firm, bringing it to full hardness. Martin squirmed under his touch, crying out softly when his foreskin was played with, the sensation being so sharp he was unsure if he liked it or not.

With one last lick, Douglas pulled away. "Alright," he said, moving up. "I think you're ready."

"No, wait," Martin said, pushing up on his elbows to look behind him. "Don't you need... oil or something?"

Douglas grasped Martin's buttocks and squeezed them together. "Do you feel that?" He said. "That slick sensation?"

"Oh god." He did, he could feel it. He didn't notice it before, his whole focus on Douglas' tongue and the hand on his cock. A part of him didn't like it, it felt gross and slimy and he wanted to wash it off. Douglas kept playing with his arse, pushing the cheeks together and letting them to relax, spreading the stuff around.

"Dragon saliva has several properties," Douglas continued. He moved up to position himself. "To heal, to ward off infection, to poison, if we like. In this case, to make penetration a smooth ride."

Martin shivered at the word _penetration_.

He felt Douglas gently probing at his hole. "Now, relax..."

He pushed in.

"Oh god," Martin gasped, his hands scrabbling at the sheets. It was big. It was too big and Martin gave out a breathless gasp, his fear spiking suddenly. There was no way that thing was going to fit inside him, it was going to tear him apart, and god, it was still _sliding in_. It was like Martin was gagging on it, he could feel it in the back of his throat, jabbing him.

Douglas licked his ear. "Congratulations," he murmured. "You're not a virgin anymore."

"Hurry it up," Martin said, gritting it through his teeth. "Fuck! I can't... it's too much..."

"Calm down," Douglas said. His hand reached underneath, caressing Martin's chest, playing with a nipple for a few long seconds, then migrated down until he curled his fingers around Martin's cock. "Here. Focus on what I'm doing here."

Martin tried to. The hand pumped his cock, bringing forth small tendrils of pleasure, but it wasn't enough to block out the pressure in his arse. It felt... nice, but not nice enough. "Just hurry up and finish," he said, wiggling his hips to dislodge Douglas' hand from him. "I want to go back to work."

Douglas paused, then abruptly pulled out of him.

The sudden loss of pressure and feeling the slick cock _slip_ right out of him had Martin gasping. He was so stunned, he barely registered Douglas flipping him over onto his back. "Wha-? What are you doing?"

Douglas crawled on top of him, purposely dragging his body across Martin's prick, making him hiss. "I'd like to kiss you right now. But considering where my mouth's just been, I don't think you'll appreciate it much."

An unexpected bark of laughter erupted out from Martin, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop it.

Douglas grinned, then shifted, rubbing Martin's cock against the warmth of his soft abdomen. The sudden shudder of pleasure from Martin told Douglas this was the right thing to do. "Like this... c'mon..."

Martin's breathing hitched as Douglas started moving, and he closed his eyes as heat rose up again in his cheeks. Unlike last time when he was gasping and begging, he was quiet, turning his head away as if in shame.

"Is this too intimate for you?" Douglas asked, then bent down to suckle on a blue love bite on Martin's neck. "Your highness?"

Martin cried out at that, his knees twitching in response. He tried to buck his hips but Douglas' weight kept him on the bed.

"Was it different when I was sucking you off? Did you pretend I was someone else? This is so much different, now that I know what you feel like, _taste_ like, now that I can see every bit of pleasure dance across your face-"

"Shut up!" Martin bit out. His hands scrabbled for purchase on Douglas' back, only to grip at his biceps tightly. "Stop talking."

"I will not. Just when I being to think you might be boring, you surprise me at the next turn. Are you going to keep surprising me? It's not an easy task, considering how old I am. That's interesting. You're interesting."

He leaned in and breathed against Martin's ear. " _I think I'm going to keep you."_

With that, Martin arched his back and came. He was too far gone to register the kiss pressed against his cheek, followed by a soft murmur of declaration.


	8. Chapter 8

Though his parents' room was not as big or rich as their old one, Martin ensured it was just as comfortable. Their bed was soft and clean, he gave them books and games to entertain themselves with, and on days when the weather was pleasant enough, he allowed them to take walks in the castle garden. Always under heavy guard, of course, by request of Douglas.

Martin visited them as often as he could, always bringing them treats and new books. His mother was always delighted to see him. His father was a bit more indifferent.

"Good lord," Wendy said, curling her hand around Martin's jaw, inspecting the bruises. She gently proded them, blinking hard to keep the tears from gathering. "What has that monster done to you?"

"I'm fine," Martin said. He certainly wasn't going to tell her _how_ these bruises came to be. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"Oh..."

Martin gently moved away from her insistent hands, bringing up the basket to show instead. "I brought pasteries."

That brightened her mood. Wendy clapped her hands in delight, then hurried to clear away their only table. She gathered the books and papers and placed them aside.

The king sat by the iron gated window, staring wordlessly outwards to the fields below. He's said and done nothing since Martin entered the room.

"Julien," Wendy snapped at him. "Your son is here! Say hello!"

Without turning to face them, King Julien muttered, "So, you fucked the dragon yet?"

Martin consummated his marriage with Douglas two days ago. Besides the the fading ache in his backside, Martin felt no different than before. He didn't feel more mature or experienced or worldly. Mostly he was just glad it was over and didn't have to think about it anymore. Still, the way his father had said it irked him. Embarrassment rose up in his ears as he tried to keep his voice steady. "That's none of your business."

"I'm going assume that was a yes." He turned to face Martin. He narrowed his eyes at his son. "I also assume you didn't use the ring."

Martin set down the pastries on the table. "You assume right."

"And why not?"

"Because I threw it away."

His father stood up from his seat. He strode across the room in a way that was too casual for it to be real. He was hiding his true feelings. He stood in front of Martin, his eyes cataloguing the bruises. He hummed thoughtfully.

Suddenly his hand was on the back of Martin's neck, his fingers digging in, his thumb pressing sharply into one dark bruise. He forced Martin down, nearly slamming him against the table. Martin's arms went out to stop his decent and he knocked over the basket of sweets, scattering them.

"WHORE," his father snarled at him. "Were you planning this the entire time? Have you been fucking the dragon behind my back, scheming with him to get the crown?"

Martin gasped in pain. "No!"

The grip on his neck got tighter. "Tell me the truth, then! What did he bribe you with? Gold? Slaves?"

"Julien-!" his mother interjected.

The door suddenly flew opened, and three guards came rushing in. They grabbed the king around his arms, pulling him off of Martin, dragging him back. Julien was kicking and spitting, refusing to let up.

"How dare you," the king seethed to the guardsmen. "You are MY citizens, MY guards! How dare you-"

"Your actions brought unnecessary war to this kingdom!" Martin said to him, gasping. He rubbed the back of his neck where he was sure were new, finger-shaped bruises. "I am trying to repair what you've brought upon the people-!"

Martin did not come here to justify his reasons. He wanted to have a nice meal with his parents, to provide them with gifts and to confirm that they were still safe and comfortable. Martin had lowered himself to keep them alive and now his father lashed out at him, truly believing his youngest son had orchestrated an entire war in order to steal the crown. He didn't know if his father was simply angry or insane.

"I did what I had to to keep this kingdom alive," Martin said, drawing himself up to speak with more authority. "I will not excuse my actions nor do I feel the need to explain them. The reasons should be transparent enough. Before I leave, there was another matter I wanted to bring up."

"What's that? Do you plan to have us executed?"

"No," said Martin. He reached into his tunic and brought out a small, egg-coloured envelope. He tossed it gently onto the table. One of the corners came into contact with the scattered sugary substance of the pasteries, staining it. "It's the invitation to my Coronation."

Martin would be lying if he said he didn't take sadistic glee from the way his father's eyes grew wide. The fight went out of him and he slacked in the guards' grip. Wendy gasped as well, slapping a hand over her mouth.

His father swallowed. "Father Duncan would never-"

"Father Duncan isn't here," Martin said. ""Hasn't been for a long time. Your advisors-"

"-the ones your dragon killed-"

"-are gone as well. Your support staff, your council, and everyone who has supported you on these lands are gone. For the first time in three years the people can grow their crops without worry. While I'll admit I may not be their first choice in king, I'm easily their best one."

"You think the people will support you?" His father said in disbelief. "They may be scared, but they're not stupid. It'll only be a matter of time before they turn on you."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Martin wasn't listening.

Occasionally a word or sentence would seep into his brain and he'd remind himself that this was important, that he needed to hear what Council member Carl was saying. Yes, taxes. Hhhhmmhm, yes, economics. Yes, things. But within one breath and the next, his voice dimmed away in Martin's consciousness.

Martin's attention was kept elsewhere.

His eyes kept shifting over from Carl to Douglas. The dragon laid on his back on the far side of the room, dozing lightly, scratching his belly every few minutes. He was like a cat lazying about, uncaring of the world around him.

Ever since their night together, Martin's thoughts have been nothing but sinful.

He'd spent that next morning in the bath, replaying their consummation over and over in his head, feeling both shameful and aroused. He tried to replicate the same reactions from his body, but the orgasm that followed was short and rather unsatisfying. When he tried to do it again, he found he couldn't and it put him in a sour mood for the rest of the day.

Even at night his dreams were filled with sensations and pleasure. More than once he woke, just at the moment of completion, arching to that invisible tongue, those delft fingers and that smooth voice. When all of it was suddenly ripped away and he found himself alone, he was surprised that he considered it to be like torture.

Martin knew he should be paying attention to Carl- Martin announced this meeting after all- but every two minutes his eyes strayed back to the dragon.

What would it be like to have sex with Douglas in that form? To have the dragon's tongue caress his flesh, to be completely enveloped in its warmth? Would it feel better now that Martin no longer had his cuts and bruises? That tongue, dragging across his body slowly, teasing him, making him arch-

"Your highness?" Council Member Carl said. "Are you paying attention?"

This was pointless.

"Everyone, get out."

Carl and the four servants in the room halted in their movements. Martin had said the command too quietly. "Your majesty...?"

"Out!" He said again, this time loud enough not to be misunderstood.

The servants, used to this kind of dismissal, bowed and quickly vacated the room. Carl's features twisted unpleasantly, annoyed because Martin was the one who summoned him in the first place, then he huffed and started gathering his papers. "I will remind his highness my time is precious and I would prefer not to be called upon and dismissed as if I were a dog. The next time you ask for my presence, I expect your full attention."

"Uh-huh."

That blase' response got him an ugly look. Carl didn't bothering bowing before he left the room. Once the door was closed, Douglas huffed and said, "I'm not leaving. You don't command me."

"You're not the one I wanted to leave," Martin snapped at him.

"Oh?" Douglas shifted from his back to a normal sitting position. "And what, my dear prince, do you want of me?" He gave a toothy grin. "Perhaps you wish to engage in another round of carnal pleasures?"

"Yes."

The dragon jerked. "Really?"

"Why are you acting surprised? You're the one who asked."

"Yes, but I was... ah, never mind." He got up and sauntered over, swaying his tail in the same manner a woman would with her hips. "It has been two weeks now, since our night together. Have you been thinking about it this entire time?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm a young man and the body wants what it wants."

"You're blushing."

Laughter followed as Martin ducked his head, heat blooming up to his cheeks.

"Don't look so humiliated, your Highness," Douglas cooed. "We consummated our marriage, so you're free to be with any lass or lad you want, but you want to be with me. I am flattered."

"You are my spouse," Martin said. "To be with another while married is... innapropriate."

The dragon's features softened. "That's... very sweet of you. It's actually... obscenely sweet. Achingly sweet. Amazingly-"

"Are you done?"

"Ah, there's my bitter prince. I almost missed you. Now, come on, what would you like?"

He started shifting, his mass getting smaller and smaller.

"No, stop," Martin said. "Don't... turn human."

Douglas reverted back to his full dragon state, surprised. "What? Are you serious?"

The red in Martin's cheeks darkened. He was sure his face matched his hair now.

"You kinky little bastard!" Douglas jeered. "You want me to fuck you as a dragon?"

"Oh, never mind!" Martin turned to leave. He didn't need this, not now. All he wanted to do was relieve an itch, not be humiliated for thinking, _perhaps_ , he could indulge in a small fantasy. How silly of him to think that. He should just find a pretty chamber maid, see if she wanted a quick romp.

"Whoa, woah, hey!" Douglas slapped his gigantic paw in front of Martin's path, halting him. "It was only a joke, Martin. You don't need to act so defensively every time someone teases you."

"That wasn't teasing, that was taking an intimate moment between us and you turned it into something crude."

"Well, guess what- sex is crude. It's loud and wet and messy, and the sooner you let go the romantic idealism of the act, the better. Human sex is no different than how animals fuck."

"I am not an animal!"

"Well, I am. So what does that make you? An animal fucker!"

"You're disgusting," Martin hissed at him. He moved aside to leave. "I'm done with you."

"Oh, fine-! I'm _sorry_ , Martin. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm sorry."

"Your sincerity is about as real as your human side."

The dragon frowned. He then sighed and stepped back and said, this time with honesty in his voice, "Martin, I'm sorry. I thought you didn't want to sleep with me again, so I was... taken off-guard by your request. I didn't mean to upset you. If you want, we can still have sex, and this time, I won't talk."

Martin chewed the inside of his cheek, considering. "No. I want something else."

Douglas cocked his head.

"I want to fly."


	9. Chapter 9

"Again."

Douglas gave off a groan and shifted tiredly. "I can't."

"I want to go again."

"I have nothing else in me."

"So much for dragon stamina."

"I'm old," Douglas said. "Over ten thousand years, you can't expect me to have the same energy I once had."

"Then you should have thought of that before choosing to marry a much younger man. I want to go again."

There was another groan, this time of utter defeat. Douglas achingly pushed himself. "Alright. Alright. I..."

He cut off, getting a good look at Martin's crotch. "You're not even hard!"

The lake before them was large and beautiful. The water sparkled like a million mirrors from the reflecting sun. It was amazing to watch. Martin wanted to wade in and take a short swim, but the water was too cold. Instead he spent the last fifteen minutes dipping his feet in while he laid flat on his back in the cool grass, staring up at the bright, blue sky. He was naked, his cock limp against his thigh. He rather like the feeling of grass against his nude body. He should do this more often.

"No, I'm not," Martin agreed, sitting up. He pulled his feet out of the water. They were starting to prune. "But I'm sure you can fix that."

Ever since he was a boy, Martin has been fascinated with birds and their ability to fly. He studied their flight patterns, the way they flapped their wings, and has even gone so far to dissect a few to study their feathers and bone structures. It was all done in secret as such studies had no place in court or his future as monarch.

Since day one, Martin had been itching to study Douglas' wings. He wanted to touch them, feel them, figure out how they worked. He didn't dare ask, of course. This was still the monster who ravaged the kingdom for the past three years and forced him into marriage.

After being married to the beast for two months now, Martin's feelings towards him... shifted.

Not changed. There'll always be a part of him hating the dragon. Instead, Martin tucked away his anger and allowed his curiosity to come back out. He studied the dragon, looked at his wings, and _wondered_ what it would be like to fly.

He saw an opportunity and he took it.

"Hmph," Douglas flopped down next to Martin. "I gave you an inch and you took a mile. You wanted to fly, so you did-"

Martin grinned happily. "That was incredible."

"You wanted sex, so I gave you that as well-"

"That was fun."

Douglas frowned at him. "Why did flying get an 'incredible' and sex only got a 'that was fun' response?"

"Why are you acting jealous? Both activities involved you."

"I... hmmmm, I can't logic myself out of that. Bah, I don't care. I'm going to make you come, and then you're going let me rest."

"No promises."

"Bend your legs."

Martin moved back and away from the lake, turning to move on to his hands and knees. The lubrication from their previous consummation was slowly drying. "Come on, now."

"You're so impatient," Douglas said, moving his head down. "And greedy. Pushy, arrogant, rude-"

He pushed his tongue in. Martin shivered at the sensation, gasping as the tongue moved inside of him. Was it shameful to like this? Douglas certainly didn't care for the aspects of human religion and the ideaologies of fasting. When he learned of Lent, he was appaled by the concept and ate twice as much for dinner that night. But sex felt too _good_ ; surely there was something wrong in liking it this much.

Douglas pulled away. He was still ranting. "Pretentious, egotistical-"

"I think you're talking about yourself at this point."

"RUDE. Have I said rude yet? And demanding. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you're not going to be able to walk for a week."

"If you can, old man."

Slowly, Douglas pushed in.

Martin's hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging into the grass and dirt. The stretch burned, but he relished the pain. It mingled in with the pleasure, intensifying it, focusing it into something bigger. He has never been so self-aware of his body, so wanting of the gifts it could give him. "Fuck," he spat out the moment Douglas started moving. "God-! Fuck!"

Douglas slowed. "Do you need me to stop?"

"No, I... keep going. God, keep moving!"

The dragon licked a long stripe up Martin's back. "Very demanding..."

Martin came a minute later, crying out as his cock spurted his seed onto the grass below. As soon as he relaxed, Douglas, still hard, slipped out of him. He slumped to the side, exhausted. "No more," he said. "I'm done, I'm taking a nap."

"It's getting late, we should head back."

"I'm ignoring you and taking a nap!"

Martin, despite himself, laughed out loud. _This_ was what he needed. To unwind, to relax; for the past few weeks the muscles in his back were so tightly wound, he was getting cramps every single night before bed. He had headaches, stomach problems, and a non-existant appetite. All of his problems were still waiting for him back at the castle, but for now, he could simply lay there, close his eyes and sleep. "Move over," he said to the dragon, pushing at him so he could curl into the softness of Douglas' belly.

Douglas grumbled but obliged him, shifting his legs to comfortably accomadate him. "So rude."

"Shut up."

It was a little cold that afternoon. The clouds were slowly moving in, blocking the sun, bringing in the cool air. Against the warmth of Douglas' belly, Martin did not mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been following the series this whole time, I'm sure ya'll were tired of the whole, 'Martin gets aroused by flying' trope. So I kinda skipped that bit and went straight for the sexy times. Hope ya'll enjoyed! =3


	10. Chapter 10

Simon had certainly changed. When he left for the mountains of Iron, he was fat and pale and baby-faced. He never cared for his lessons in physical strength, choosing to spend his days indulging in wine and leasurely strolls. Now that he spent the past two years living with the dwarves, he had changed beyond recognition. His skin was deeply tanned, and his hands, once dainty, were now calloused and strong. He was still big around the waist, but it was muscle now instead of fat. He'd also grown an extremely large, full beard. Combined that with the thick fur coat he was wearing, he looked more like an animal than a man.

The carriage he rode in was drawn by oxen, not horses. The carriage itself was made out of pure gold, and it was a miracle Simon wasn't robbed on his way here. Martin didn't bother trying to rationalize how only four oxen could pull such a heavy thing.

"Baby brother!" Simon said loudly, throwing his arms wide and coming in for a hug.

"Simon, it's good to see- ooof!"

Martin felt like he was being hugged by a rug. "It's been too long!" Simon said, hugging tighter. "I was so afraid I was never going to see you again! Look at you! You look... like hell, actually."

Martin pushed him away and stepped back, straightening his clothes. "I'm fine! Lord... how was your trip?"

"Long. Boring. But it feels good to get out of the mountains. It's too bloody cold up there. Is Caitlyn coming?"

"No, she's not."

"Hmmm, can't blame her. It's hard to believe what you've become, little brother."

He was here not even five minutes and already he was starting shit. "What I've _become_?"

"Didn't think you would steal the crown from our father."

"I didn't steal it!"

"Then what do you call all of this?" He asked, waving his hand vaguely. "You were suppose to bring peace with the dragon, not overthrow the king."

"Do _not_ judge me," Martin sneered. "I did what I had to to keep this kingdom from going under. You've been gone for nearly two years, Simon, you have no idea what's happened since your departure."

"I'm sure you'll tell me. Come, show me to my quarters. I'd like to freshen up before meeting with our parents."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After months of feeling anger and confusion and the crippling ball of anxiety in his stomach, Martin thought his reunion with his brother would be something akin to relief. He thought the sight of a familiar face, of a friendly face, would ease his worries. Instead, Martin was left feeling irritated and small. He was going to be crowned king in less than a week and within moments of being in the presence of his brother, it was like he was ten years old again.

"Is that your brother?" Douglas asked the moment Martin walked into their bedroom. As requested, Douglas shifted into his human form as not to scare the workers and locals who were attending the ceremony. He was dressed simply in loose, long robes. He said he hated the constricting feel of clothing on his body.

"Yes," Martin said. Now he was regretting inviting Simon to the coronation. Martin paced around the room, trying to calm down.

Douglas huffed. "He's one ugly son of a bitch."

"You're the minority, then. Most of the citizens here always thought he was handsome."

"He's pretty, not handsome. Mix pretty with that beard and you get ugly."

Martin snorted.

"Why did you invite him?" Douglas asked. "I thought the dwarves stopped sending you their iron reserves."

"They did. They gave us what they promised for the war. Still, Simon is my brother. Of course I want him here for my coronation."

"Do you trust him not to cause trouble?"

"He's Simon. He hasn't got a devious bone in his whole body. He's too lazy to cause trouble."

"Hmmph. I don't like the fact you're letting him see your parents."

"Oh, don't you start too! I can't keep my parents imprisoned forever. Maybe once my father sees Simon, he'll finally believe I am not dragging this kingdom into the ground."

"You're going to be severely disappointed. I've been around long enough to know the patterns of mad kings."

"My father isn't mad-!"

"He attacked you!"

"And _you_ attacked _me_! I was chained and beaten and you _threatened_ to burn me alive, and yet here we are! If I can find common ground with you, I can with my father, so shut up!"

Douglas was taken back. It was only for a brief moment, then he grinned wolfishly and said, "God, I love it when you're aggressive."

"What?"

The next thing Martin knew, Douglas was crowding him against the wall, kissing him fiercely, pulling his shirt out of his trousers. As Douglas pulled back to mouth at Martin's neck, Martin said, "I don't have time for this-! Simon will want-"

"Your brother does not rule this land, you do," Douglas said breathlessly. He ran his hands under Martin's shirt, scrapping his fingernails lightly over his stomach and chest. "He will obey your schedule."

"That's a very good point, but I... I..."

He trailed off, arching into Douglas' touch. His own hands came up to loosen the robes Douglas had on. It was easy to pull the swaths of clothe away, letting them drop to the ground. "Five minutes, then. Just... ah... five minutes..."

Forty-seven minutes later, Martin walked into the great hall, wearing new clothes and looking quite pleased with himself.

Simon stood up from his chair, annoyance radiating from his entire body. "Took you long enough. If I knew I was going to wait for you, I would have taken a nap-"

"I had duties to attend to," Martin said. "I'll do my best to accomodate you, but don't expect my full attention while you're here."

Simon stopped, surprised. But unlike Douglas, he wasn't impressed with Martin's attitude. "Aw, listen to my little brother. Sounding _so_ important."

Martin gritted his teeth. He really wanted to say something back, but this was the first time their family was together (minus Caitlyn) in two years. He didn't want to start this reunion with fighting. "Our parents are in the tower. Let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

Martin felt like the third wheel. He watched as Simon embraced their parents, kissing their cheeks, laughing in relief. Martin wanted to come close, join in as well, but he hung back. It didn't feel right to intrude. He wondered if Douglas would laugh at him. Here Martin was, ready to become the future king of this land, and he stood in the back like the awkward child at the adult party. Worse, nobody invited him into their conversation. Not even his mother. She was too busy cooing over Simon's new beard, touching his arms and making comments on his appearance.

Martin felt sick. Nausea rose in his stomach and it felt like pressure was pushing against his brain.

He couldn't be in the room any longer. Without saying a word he left the tower. Nobody called out to him to come back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Douglas found him, he was halfway through an entire bottle of rum. Martin wasn't drinking it slowly, savouring its rich flavour. He chugged it down like it was water, fighting against his gag reflex when it burned his throat. "Upset?" Douglas asked.

Martin waited till he swallowed another mouthful. He coughed. "It suddenly occurred to me I might be the villain in this scenario."

"Villain?" Douglas scoffed. "We all know that title belongs to me."

"My parents are held in a tower as prisoners, under _my_ orders. I have usurped my father's throne. I... am literally _sleeping_ with the enemy and enjoying it!"

"That's sweet of you to say."

"Where had it gone wrong?" Martin muttered mournfully. "I was just trying to save my family and I..."

He tried to pour himself another glass and stopped when Douglas' hand halted him.

"You've done nothing wrong," Douglas said as he pulled the bottle away. "You know you haven't."

"Everyone hates me. My parents, my siblings, my people-"

"I don't hate you."

"I'm only a tool to you. A means to an end. You don't care-"

"Do not assume what I feel," Douglas growled. He walked over and for a moment, Martin thought Douglas was going to hit him.

He would have welcomed it. At least that made sense.

Instead Douglas curled his hand around Martin's forehead. The coolness of his palm was a blessing against his hot skin and Martin leaned into this touch, his eyes closing in bliss. Douglas gently messaged his temple, and that felt even better.

"I hate you," Martin muttered. The hand moved down to his cheek. Gods, he never wanted this to end. "I hate you so goddamn much. You're the reason everything is shite."

"I know," said Douglas. He gently pulled Martin up from his chair. "C'mon, let's get you to a bucket before you vomit over these pretty royal clothes of yours."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Douglas brought him a bucket but left before Martin vomited into it. He came back later with a pitcher of water and a wet rag to wash his face.

Throwing up made Martin feel more sober, but not better. "I'm tired of feeling like this. Like I have no control over my own life."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Douglas asked.

Good question. Martin has tried for so long to keep everyone together, to do what was right for others. He was ready to give his own life to let his parents escape. He was willing to marry a dragon to prevent more war. He begged like a goddamn dog to keep the rest of his royal court from being slaughtered, and how was he thanked for his sacrifice? With parents who thought of him as a traitor, siblings who thought of him as a tyrant, and subjects who didn't care less if he lived or died. He was fucking sick of it.

"Douglas," Martin suddenly snapped. "You'll only be in human form around others. When we are alone, you must always be a dragon."

"Why would I-?"

"Don't question me. Turn into a dragon, now."

Douglas blinked in surprise, and then he grinned. Within one second and in the next, he shifted, throwing off his robes and becoming the large beast Martin has always known him to be. It felt right.

"Something changed in you," Douglas purred. His tail swished back and forth, interested. "Do you want to fuck?"

"No, shut up. Simon's been with my parents for too long. I've let that meeting go on longer than I should have. If they want to think of me as a tyrant, then I better play the part."

"Ooh, dramatic. What's next? Enforce a curfew?"

"Don't be stupid. I've been trying so hard to please everyone, and I think it's time I try something different."

"You're finally stepping into the role of king. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get there."

"How long? You always knew I was going to become king?"

"Martin, the very first time we met you looked straight into my eyes and told me to fuck off. No human has ever done that before, and I doubt no other ever will. Of course I never doubted."

The validation sent a shiver up Martin's spine, pleasure blooming in his stomach. "I need to clean my teeth and take a bath. Are you going to join me?"

"I thought you didn't want to fuck."

"I changed my mind. Well?"

All of Douglas' scales shuddered once, causing a ripple of colours across his body. "I really do enjoy this new attitude. I can't wait to see where it takes you."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gore, gross stuff, minor character death, and unhealthy relationship stuff.

"Martin! You can't keep me from my parents!"

"I am the ruler of this kingdom, and I will do what I see fit. Now, quit your complaining and go to your room. I am not entertaining anymore tonight."

"I am not a child!"

"Guards," Martin addressed those in the room, standing by the door. "Escort my brother to his room."

Simon's mouth dropped. "You..."

Martin couldn't help but admit how good it felt to watch Simon get escorted out of the room. After nineteen years of dealing with Simon's antics, his teasing, his unwanted rough housing, it was absolutely amazing to give an order and have him obey it. Even if it was against his will.

Gods, how freeing it was, to finally stop being concerned of what other people wanted, weighing their opinions, wanting their approval, and simply doing what needs to be done. No more second guessing himself. No more worrying about the future. Martin was _king_ , goddamn it, and his word was _law_.

Martin suddenly wanted to have sex again.

A small giggle came out of his mouth, and he quickly muffled it. He's always heard how power corrupts, was raised to be wary of it. Now Martin knew why it did. Sending Simon away was a small gesture, but it meant so many things. Martin was ready to move on, step forward, and try new things without fear. Simon may be married to the dwarf queen, but he was nothing more than a consort to her. Martin doubt she would be willing to fight a dragon for Simon.

And Caitlyn? Until she produced an heir, the wizard king was not going to make her his queen. The fact she had yet to get pregnant either meant she was incapable or she didn't want to. Either way, resistance from the wizard king was not coming any time soon.

As long as Martin posed no threat to them directly, he was out of their sight. As long as Simon and Caitlyn did their jobs and stayed out of Martin's business, everything should be fine. Martin's only real concern were the nobles who were against him, and keeping favour with the citizens. Preventing civil war was his highest priority. Everything else fell wayside.

"Douglas! Douglas, where are you?"

Martin found Douglas sleeping in the great hall, in his dragon form. "Wake up!"

"Ughhhh... what, what is it? I just got to sleep."

"Go into your human form. Right now."

"Do I have to?"

He groaned and rolled over, smacking his lips loudly, and shifted. Once he was upright on two legs, he yawned and scratched his grey hair, mumbling. "What was so important you had to wake me up from my afternoon nap?"

"I want to suck you off."

That got Douglas' attention. "Oh. Um...not that I'm uninterested... but why so sudden- oh, you're doing this now, are you?"

Martin went to his knees and took Douglas' flaccid cock into his mouth.

"I'm not even hard, silly boy. Are you even going to answer why you're doing this? No? Alright."

Douglas carded his hands through Martin's hair, licking his lips as he watched Martin bop his head. He sighed, enjoying the lazy pleasure.

"You've changed," Douglas muttered softly after a minute. "No... that's not right. You've grown into the man you've always meant to be. Look at you. So aggressive, so sure of yourself. I knew when I saw you on that battlefield, you were something special. You- _unf_ \- just needed something to push you on your way. I gladly take full credit for doing that."

Martin rolled his eyes at that statement, his tongue swirling around Douglas' cock head at the same time. Douglas groaned.

"By the end of the week, you will no longer be _your highness_ ," Douglas continued. "It will be _your majesty_. I am in awe. With what little power you were given, you've done so much. How will you change when you finally become king? When you- _oh god_ \- when you - Martin... Martin... god... you're driving me crazy here. Here, get up, I want to fuck you. Martin? Do you really want me to finish in your mouth? Future kings should not dignify themselves with- oh god, oh fuck! Fuck!"

Douglas gripped his own hair tightly as he fucked Martin's warm, inviting mouth. His hands ran down his face in disbelief. "Ugh... I love you..."

Martin pulled off. "What?"

"What?"

"You just said... did I hear you say..."

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. I suppose I do. Love you."

Martin stood up. He wiped his mouth. He didn't look happy.

Douglas huffed, crossed his arms and said, "I don't expect to hear it back. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you're still planning to kill me later on. Originally I planned to wait you out. Hope you die of old age or disease or whatever you humans die so often of. But here I am. No matter what happens, Martin, I am not giving you up. _You're mine_. I claimed you. Do what you will with that information. I've no doubt I just signed my death with telling you all of this."

Martin stepped forward, raising one hand to Douglas' grey hair, running his fingers through it. He suddenly gripped it tightly, jerking Douglas' head back, almost baring his throat to Martin. Douglas looked down at him, wondering if he'll feel teeth at his throat or the cold steel of a knife.

"I hate you so much," Martin said.

Douglas closed his eyes, expecting pain, and startled when Martin suddenly leaned up and kissed him.

"But _you're mine_ ," he said, his lips touching Douglas' as he spoke. "And I am not giving you up."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the next few days the final preparations for the coronation were finished. Martin allowed Simon to visit their parents a couple of hours every day, and Martin gave them their privacy. As much as it hurt to not have their approval, he hoped once they saw how far Martin took the kingdom, they'll eventually forgive him. It would take time.

On the day of, Martin found himself alone in his bedroom, going over his notes for his speech, doing last minute revisions. Behind him sitting on a table, was his royal robes and the rest of his jewelry. In another fifteen minutes he was to put them on and ride out to the royal gardens where a thousand guests were waiting for him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Martin said out loud to himself. "No... prestigious guests... Thank you for coming here today to watch me... Thank you for attending my coronation... Thank you for... for... your time? Shit, I should change this quickly..."

The door to his bedroom opened. Martin turned, expecting the vicar, and saw Simon. "Simon, what are you doing here? You should be with the other guests."

"I wanted to see you before you go on stage. What? This is not a wedding. Am I not allowed to see my baby brother before his big day?"

"You weren't even at my wedding," Martin mumbled. Maybe if Simon had, he would've seen how hard Martin worked to keep the kingdom going.

"Don't be like that, little brother. Let me see you... come here, don't be shy..."

Martin sighed and walked over, letting Simon clasp his hands on his shoulders.

Simon looked him over. He smiled sadly. "Martin... look, I know it's been rough the past few months. You had to do so much and... I'm sorry I wasn't there helping you. You were forced to do things to keep yourself from drowning and I... I just wanted to say I'm proud of you, little brother."

Oh.

Tears gathered at Martin's eyes. Did Simon finally understand? Was Martin finally not alone in this? "Simon..."

"I love you so much, Martin," Simon continued, his voice getting thick. "So please... forgive me for this."

"For what-?"

That's all he got out when Simon's hand slapped the side of his neck. There was a sudden prick of pain, like a rose thorn scratching him, and Martin jerked away, his hand coming up to cup his neck. "What the hell? What-?"

Simon backed away, his arms up in forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Martin. Dad and I agreed... this is for the good of the kingdom."

In his hand was a pearl ring. The same type of pearl ring Martin's father expected him to use against Douglas.

Terror engulfed Martin as he stumbled back, clutching his neck. The small pain suddenly erupted into hot, white fire, spreading across his body in rapid speed. His blood boiled and his heart thundered loudly in his chest. He fell to his knees. Black pus oozed out of his ears and nose, gathering on the floor.

"Douglas!" Martin cried out feebly. He began coughing up blood. "D-Douglas!"

"Your dragon is not here," Simon said to him. "In fact, I never saw him since I've been here. Were you lying the whole time, Martin? I guess that doesn't matter. It'll be over in a couple of seconds, anyways."

Marin fell to his side, the last of his energy leaving him. He was curled in on himself, clutching his sides as his body was wracked with unimaginable pain. It would've been kinder to have stabbed him. Was this punishment? He didn't use the ring on Douglas, so it was used on him.

In the end, he really was alone.

Through the haze of pain and blood, Martin watched the door to his bedroom open again. Simon didn't notice.

It was Douglas. He stepped in as human, wearing robes of gold and red. He walked in, his arms wide to display himself, and saw what was happening.

"Martin...?" Douglas whispered in horror.

"Who the hell are you?" Simon cried out. "Get out!"

" _What did you do?_ " Douglas snarled. In one second and the next, he transformed. His small human body gave way to his dragon form, spilling out like guts erupted from a slit belly. He rose, snapped out his wings, taking up the entire space of the room.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" He bellowed out again.

Simon screamed.

Douglas didn't wait for an answer. His large head swooped down and he snapped up the screaming Simon, crushing him between his giant teeth and then swallowing him whole.

Martin had no energy left. Not to scream or cry or protest. Blood was still pooling out from his body. He didn't know where he was, who he was, or what was happening. He just wanted it to be over, to have it end. Slowly, Martin closed his eyes.

"Martin?" He heard a voice saying above him. It sounded so far away. "Don't you fucking do this to me. I won't let it. Not today."

That's the last thing Martin heard before the darkness took him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: body horror

When Martin woke, it was to silence.

There were no birds to be heard, no singing crickets. Martin got used to the sound of Douglas snoring softly next to him. To wake to complete and utter silence made his ears prick in irritation. He sighed loudly just to see if he was deaf. He wasn't.

His whole body was sore. Martin shifted, trying to work out the kinks from his back and found he could barely move. The left side of his body felt numb, though the lingering pains were there. He couldn't understand why there was both pain yet nothingness.

He was also unbelievably hot. Martin kicked uselessly, trying to get this heavy blanket off of him. The longer he was aware how hot he was, the worse the temperature became. Suddenly he was desperate to get the blanket off, but his left leg refused to help. With a frustrated grunt, Martin grabbed the blanket with his right hand and flung it off him, the cool air welcoming on his body. With a sleepy grumble, he looked down at himself.

His left arm and leg was gone.

There was no stump, no elbow or knee to speak of. His entire left side was completely devoid of his limbs.

Martin said nothing, too shocked to speak. He stared, his right hand coming around hesitantly, afraid to touch the absent spot where his arm used to be.

Was he dreaming? He's had dreams where his teeth have fallen out, so it had to be like that, right? Except this didn't feel like a dream. Slowly, his fingers prodded the smooth ball of where his arm used to be, touching the healed flesh there.

The air inside his lungs turned into steel, giving the sensation of drowning. He couldn't breath, couldn't speak. Tears pricked the side of his eyes, panic rising. His mouth gaped open, but was unable to inhale. His lungs burned hotly. Finally, his body's natural instincts took over and he took in a shaky breath.

Something inside of him shattered.

He started screaming. He couldn't stop. The most horrid, unnatural screams erupted out of his mouth, ripping his throat with every cry. He couldn't take his eyes off his missing limbs, the sight of his half-missing body only spurred him to scream louder.

"Martin!"

Martin heard Douglas calling his name, but he was too mentally gone to react. He flailed on the bed, still expecting for his left arm and leg to move with him, and the lack thereof only fueled his panic.

He fainted.

He woke only a few seconds later, sobbing into the pillow, his right hand still cupped around the curve of his shoulder. He flinched as Douglas' human hand gently touched his forehead.

"What happened?" Martin choked out. "What the fuck happened to my arm- my leg?!"

Douglas sighed. "I had to amputate them to save your life."

Save his life? Save from what-? Martin gasped, remembering what occurred. A low horrid sound vibrated out of his mouth, so many emotions running through him, each one trying to dominate the other: the betrayal from Simon, his older brother, a man who once declared he would do anything to protect Martin. There was the panick of death in the back of Martin's throat, reminding him how close he came to eternal nothingness. There was the mind-numbing nausea of the sight of his missing arm and leg, and somehow, above all else, there was heartbreak.

"You killed Simon..." Martin moaned. "You killed..."

"I did," Douglas said. "He tried to kill you."

"You _ate_ him."

"I didn't enjoy it."

The room spun at those words. "I'm going to be sick," Martin said, his breath speeding up.

Douglas quickly guided him to the side of the bed where a pan was waiting for him. It was like he was a helpless baby again; he had no strength to move, no fucking arm or leg to allow him to crawl properly. He was literally half a man.

Martin didn't vomit, and instead curled in on himself, crying. "I can't believe... you..."

He realized something. He jerked up, facing Douglas. "My parents! Did you kill them-?"

"No," Douglas said. "You were dying. I had to move quickly. From what I heard, your father took hold of the kingdom again. He's been clearing out your influence and-"

"What?" Martin interrupted. "How long...? How long have I been out?"

Douglas took a breath. He sighed. "Two months."

Martin fainted again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Where are we Douglas?"

"Far, far away. A place where no one knows my name or yours."

"I have to go back. I have obligations."

"You will be killed if you go back. You're already labeled as a traitor to your country. I will be killed if I go back. Simon's wife has declared war on me. I cannot fight two armies at once."

"You've abandoned your own lands? For me?"

"Yes, without question."

"This isn't right."

"What do you want, Martin?"

"I want... I want to go back! To try to fix things! To ask my father why he tried to have me killed, to give my brother a proper funeral... I want... I want..."

"If you truly want to go back, I'll take you."

"And if we do, we'll be killed."

"Yes."

Martin leaned against the cool wall of the cave. This was a temporary hole, a place to hide until Douglas deemed it safe enough to move again. It was not a home, it was barely a room. Martin was no longer a prince, his title and birthright taken from him as swift as the poison took his arm and leg. What could a man with nothing to his name do?

A man who had a goddamn dragon on his side.

"I want..." With a grunt, Martin pushed forward to sit up straight. He held the stump of his left shoulder, gripping it hard enough to bruise. "My arm back. I want my leg. I did not spend the last three months getting _fucked_ from every corner to lose it all like this."

"You want to fight?" Douglas asked.

"No," said Martin. Something dark settled over his face. Along with his arm, the last portion of mercy had been ripped away. He no longer cared about consequences. If his father and the dwarf queen wanted to mark him as a traitor, then he better damn well play the fucking part.

"I want to _win_ ," Martin finally said.


End file.
